Feels Like Rain
by Oomph.Kiddo
Summary: Justin Gabriel calls just in time for Valentine's Day.


**_Disclaimer: _**I do not own World Wrestling Entertainment, or Justin Gabriel.

I don't know where this came from. I guess, because it's Valentine's Day, I felt like writing something mushy and romantic. And this is the outcome. So, Happy Valentine's Day to all you love sick puppies, or hopeless romantics.

Based on the song, _Feels Like Rain _by Kesha.

_

* * *

_

_Woke up a little late today  
Looking out the clouds are gray  
Got no missed phone calls from you_

_What a shitty day_, she mumbles at the gray clouds hanging loosely from the sky outside her bedroom window.

Her pretty face is buried into the plush, white pillow. Her tired, blue eyes hidden beneath thick, long lashes and her rosy red lips parted enough to let a sigh slip through. It floats in the air for a moment or two, before it drops, like her mood, into nothingness.

It was almost lunch time, now.

_He hasn't called_, she reminds herself again as her manicured fingertips trace lines over her cell phone. It's sitting quietly on the mattress beside her, the screen dark and blank, no missed phone calls, no recent text messages, nothing.

It's been twenty eight days since she last saw him in person. That's six hundred and seventy two hours, or forty thousand three hundred and twenty minutes.

Before he left, as they were sharing their last embrace, he promised to call her as much as he could. She'd spent the better half of the past twenty eight days by the phone, awaiting the opportunity to hear his voice—always laced with his beautiful South African accent.

But he hasn't called for three and a half days, now. She hadn't minded, because she knew how demanding and tiring life on the road was for him, for all of them.

But today was Valentine's Day, for heaven's sake.

* * *

_See your picture by my bed  
Still the one I want instead  
But I can't find a way to say  
Come back, come back_

Another hour rolls around ever so slowly, almost teasing her.

She hasn't moved from her side of the bed, the covers bunched up and kicked to the side, exposing her bare legs and the skin on her stomach. She hasn't gotten up to shower, or to brush her teeth, or to comb her hair—she probably looks far less than attractive.

Her phone begins to beep softly, but it's not him.

It's one of her friends, which disappoints her more than it should. They've left a voicemail, asking if she wants to come out to lunch despite the rain. She doesn't respond.

Turning back over, she brings her arm underneath her head and sighs. She even contemplates texting him. That's before she realizes the only thing she would be able to write would be, "_come back_."

* * *

_You make up what I lack  
My pride has left me all alone  
It's getting so cold_

It's the little things that she misses most about him; the things that other people usually overlook or don't necessarily remember.

He taps his fingers when he's bored. He licks his lips as a form of habit. He scratches the back of his neck when he's embarrassed or nervous. And his perfect lips quirk down at the corners when he's in thought about something.

Other people see him as _Justin Gabriel_, the high flyer—she sees him as _Paul Lloyd Jr_., her Angel.

And so, it's always been the little things that mean the most to her.

* * *

_I'm closing the windows to stay warm  
It's a chill in my soul since you've been gone  
The silence is louder than any thunder taking me under_

At four in the afternoon, she's finally able to haul herself out of bed.

She steps towards the closet and pulls out one of his large, hooded jumpers. It's soft and warm, and it smells just like him, so she slips it over her head and lets it fall around her slim waist. It's a few sizes too big, but, to her, it fits just right.

When she's leaning against the kitchen counter, waiting for the kettle to boil, she notices exactly how gloomy it is outside.

_Some Valentine's Day_, she thinks to herself as she leans over to close the window.

Another round of thunder crackles above the clouds. It rattles through her bones silently, the loneliness becoming heavier like the rain.

* * *

_Oh, I'm staying home today  
Going to hide away  
Because it feels like rain_

Sitting on her sofa with a warm mug of coffee, she listened to the rain outside her door and the voicemail messages playing out from her home line.

"_You missed lunch. Are you okay? Call me back_."

Beep.

"_I know you're there. Pick up the phone_."

Beep.

"_I'm having the girl's over at mine tonight. You should come_."

Beep.

"_Justin's not home. There's no reason for you to be couped up in the house_."

Beep.

"_Look, would you call one of us back_?"

Beep.

"... _No one should be alone on Valentine's Day_."

* * *

_Every day just seems the same  
And I'm the only one to blame  
I tried to play like I'm fine  
But the pain is here to stay_

Nine at night and still no phone call.

She's given up on waiting. She's tired, and worn out, and exhausted, all from a full day of doing absolutely nothing—she was emotionally drained. It starts to show as she walks the house to switch off all the lights, the tears stinging her eyes when she makes it to the bedroom.

_Another night alone_, she cries to herself, sliding under the covers on her side of the bed. His side was still empty, and un-slept in.

* * *

_At some point this darkness is bound to fade today  
It's so hard to believe this storm will ever blow away_

In two minutes it would be twelve o'clock, midnight.

This shitty, gloomy, rainy Valentine's Day would be over, and a new normal day would begin.

* * *

_Do you know what it feels like,  
Do you know what it feels like,  
When it feels like rain._

Her phone begins to beep in the next minute, but she lets it ring out, thinking it would only be her drunk friends telling her she was stupid for sitting at home by herself. It hits voicemail. Her own voice fills the shadowed room, before the beep.

"_Hey, it's me_," his angelic tone hits her curled up frame lightly, her eyes trailing to the device on the mattress. "_I know it's been a while since I last called_," he pauses long enough to swallow, _"I miss you, a lot, and I hope I'm not too late_—"

She lets a warm tear slide down her cheek to her rosy lips, which are curved up slightly into the smallest of smiles. The clock on the bedside table clicks over to midnight, her eyes closing tiredly.

"—_Happy Valentine's Day, baby_."


End file.
